


It's Okay

by MrSpockify



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, and i'll be damned if he doesn't get one, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 07:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpockify/pseuds/MrSpockify
Summary: When Tony begins avoiding him, Peter starts to regret ever telling him about Skip.Sequel to my other story Secrets, but could also be read on its own.





	It's Okay

                Ever since Peter told Tony about Skip Westcott, things were different. There was a tension between them now that made Peter’s heart ache. Every time they were in the same room together, Tony was on edge, avoiding eye contact and always looking for an excuse to leave the room. Peter wished he hadn’t said anything.

                When he was little, he had promised Skip he wouldn’t tell anyone, and he had intended to take their secret with him to his grave. But then he told his aunt and uncle, and they made him go to a doctor where he was asked a million questions and was poked and prodded with cold, gloved hands. Aunt May and Uncle Ben treated him differently after that. They tip-toed around him like he was made of glass, and they always spoke to him in soft voices.

                Everything had seemed to get worse for him once the secret had gotten out. Skip moved away, but he still saw him every night in his dreams. He still felt every caress on his skin, no matter how hard he scratched at himself. Everything he did or said seemed to upset his aunt and uncle. He wanted to make them happy, but he didn’t know how. He wasn’t even sure he could.

                Now, as he read Tony’s text message about how he had to cancel today’s lab hangout, he felt like he had as a kid all over again.

                He really shouldn’t have said anything.

* * *

 

                Tony woke up screaming again, his body tensed up like he was ready to fight. Pepper was comforting him almost instantly, her hand running through his hair and her gentle voice bringing him back down from his panic attack. There were heavy bags under her eyes. Neither of them were getting much sleep lately.

                When his breathing was back to normal, he assured her he was alright and waited for her to fall back asleep before slipping out of bed and padding down the hall.

                He had always had nightmares, ever since Afghanistan. But lately, they were getting worse. He didn’t tell Pepper why, and he didn’t tell her that they were different this time. That now he had nightmares about a little boy with brown curls screaming for help. He couldn’t tell Pepper about this. It didn’t feel like his secret to tell.

                He made his way to his lab, where he had spent most of his nights for the past few weeks. He never really got anything done. The first couple nights were spent searching through school and criminal records, sifting through security footage, and having FRIDAY help him track down a man who seemed to be impossible to find. One day, in the middle of the night, Tony found him.

                Skip Westcott lived in an old apartment in Brooklyn, way too close for Tony’s comfort. He had a job washing dishes for a local restaurant, a not-too-serious girlfriend, and, according to medical records, chronic shoulder pain. _Good_ , Tony thought. _Let him suffer_.

                After that night, Tony would just come into his lab and pull up Skip’s files. He had read them dozens of times, and they never said anything new. He’d stare at the picture of the man and think about all the ways he wanted to hurt him. In the end, it didn’t really help.

                If anything, knowing more about Skip seemed to make things worse. Now he had a face to put to it. Now, in his nightmares, his mind would fill in the blanks of Peter’s story, and he’d wake up with horrific images burned into the back of his eyes. He hated Skip. And he hated himself.

                Tony knew he was acting weird around Peter, but he couldn’t help it. Every time he looked into those eyes he saw a young Peter, crying underneath a teenage Skip, screaming for someone to help him while no one came. His body would instinctively tense up whenever Peter was around. It was like his fight or flight response would activate, but there was no one there to fight anymore. There wasn’t a way for him to protect Peter from something that happened in the past. He didn’t know what to do.

                Now, Tony stared blankly at the screen depicting Skip’s face. He felt numb, too tired for anger to start boiling up inside of him. Sighing, he stood and walked off to make some coffee. It wasn’t like he was getting any more sleep tonight, anyway.

* * *

 

                Peter was out on patrol, something he had been doing less and less of ever since the night he told Tony about Skip. He was always afraid, now, that he would have to save another kid from being abused. He didn’t want to relive that again. Still, while he swung around Queens, he was on high alert for any sign of a screaming child. He didn’t _want_ to be listening for it, but his brain seemed to be tuned in to it anyway. Now he would respond to it every time, but it turns out that kids just scream a lot for no reason. He would show up to a building, his chest heaving in fear, only to find that a child had just been yelling at the TV, or shrieking for attention. It was exhausting.

                Taking a moment to breathe, Peter checked his phone. No notifications. He had texted Tony half a dozen times today, but the man never replied anymore. It was liked he stopped caring altogether.

                Peter couldn’t help but fall into an old headspace, wondering why Tony wasn’t talking to him anymore. He knew all his therapists from childhood would be disappointed, but Peter couldn’t resist thinking it was his own fault. Tony probably thought he was gross, having been stupid enough as a child to let himself get raped. He probably wished Peter hadn’t told him anything. Now every time he saw him, Tony probably saw what Peter would see in the mirror every day. A filthy boy, used and tainted. Annoying. Useless.  Disgusting.

                Peter sucked in a shaky breath, not even realizing he had been crying.

                “Hey, Bestie,” a voice piped up, her cheery tone oddly comforting. He smiled.

                “Hey, Karen.”

                “You seem to be in distress. Do you need assistance?”

                “Um… No?” Peter wasn’t quite sure about his answer. Maybe he did need assistance. He wasn’t sure what _kind_ , though. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he didn’t really _deserve_ any assistance. He was fine, anyway.

                “Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?”

                “God, no,” he answered quickly. “I don’t want to bother him.”

                “You’re not a bother, Peter,” she soothed, and for a second he almost believed her. “Mr. Stark is already awake, anyway.”

                “He is?” It was nearly two in the morning. He was out way past his curfew, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to sleep. It seemed weird that Tony was awake, too. He wondered why.

                “Yes, he is alone in his lab. I’m sure he would like some company. Should I let him know you’re coming?”

                Peter thought for a moment. If he told Tony he was coming, the man would probably come up with an excuse to leave by the time he got there. He was really tired of watching him walk away. “No,” he answered, shooting a web out and swinging from the roof of a building. “I’ll just stop by as a surprise.”

* * *

 

                Tony sipped at his coffee on the way back to the lab, wincing as it burned his throat. He was considering what he could do to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied. Maybe force out a new update on the Iron Man suit. Maybe just hammer some nails into a piece of wood. He didn’t care what.

                He froze in the doorway to his lab, coffee perched just below his lip, his breath gone as if it had been knocked out of him. A red and blue-clad figure stood in the center of his lab, standing in front of the blown-up image of Skip Westcott Tony had been looking at before. Spider-Man looked small in front of the screen, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

                “Pete,” he said softly, not wanting to alarm the kid. When there was no response, he stepped inside and set his coffee down. He moved slowly toward the kid, but his legs seemed to stop automatically a few feet away. He was afraid to reach forward. “Peter?” Tony tried again.

                “You found him,” Peter whispered. His voice was harsh, slicing through Tony’s heart like a knife.

                “You shouldn’t be here.” The words slipped out of his mouth before Tony could stop them, and he winced at the way he sounded. “I mean, it’s the middle of the night. You should be at home. Asleep.”

                “You found him,” Peter repeated, his voice slightly louder.

                “Look, kid, it’s really late. I was just heading back to bed,” Tony lied, hoping the coffee wasn’t too much of a give-away. “Why don’t you go home and we can talk about this—”

                “Stop deflecting,” Peter snapped and spun around, making Tony flinch, “and stop trying to avoid me.”

                “I’m not avoiding—”

                “ _You. Found. Him_.” Peter said slowly, emphasizing each word and pointing back to the screen. Tony sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this. He nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The pain in the kid’s voice made Tony’s chest ache.

                “What good would it do?” He thought about how much good it did him. How it had made the nightmares worse, more personal. How knowing the guy was so close made him hyper-aware of how small the world was, and how short distances could be.

                “He’s right here,” Peter whispered. “He never even left.” Peter clutched at his neck, his breathing becoming harsher every second. Tony recognized what was happening, but he’d never seen it on someone else before. “I could’ve seen him on the street, anywhere.” The kid started curling in on himself. “He could’ve come back for me.”

                Tony finally stepped into action when the kid started wheezing, bending over and pulling his mask off. Peter’s face was red and splotchy, tears already falling freely down his cheeks. His expression was strained, like he was in pain—which, Tony knew, he probably was.

                “Hey, hey,” Tony soothed, stepping up beside him. He put a comforting hand on Peter’s back, which was definitely the wrong thing to do. Peter stumbled back, nearly toppling over.

                “Please, don’t do that,” he gasped, fear painting his face. “Please…” He sobbed pitifully.

                “Ok, kid, no problem,” Tony said, holding his hands up and keeping his distance. Knowing why Peter had reacted that way made his blood boil, but he pushed it back down to focus on the issue at hand. “Just take a deep breath, ok? Inhale, exhale. Follow my lead. Focus on me.” He breathed in and out, coaching the kid through each breath and giving small encouragements. When Peter’s breathing slowed back down, with only the occasional hitch in his breath from crying, Tony gestured for him to sit down.

                “I’m sorry,” Tony started, his voice low and gentle. “I should’ve told you I found him earlier. But, to be fair, that was not the best reaction to the information, and kind of what I was trying to avoid.” If Peter thought his attempt to lighten the mood was funny, he didn’t show it. “Ok, look,” he tried again, “you don’t need to worry about him anymore. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe, I promise.”

                “You can’t promise that,” Peter countered, staring at him with red-rimmed and watery eyes. Tony wanted to engulf him in a hug, but he knew that would be the last thing the kid wanted.

                Tony wanted to say a lot of things.

_You know I’d never let anything bad happen to you._

_Don’t you trust me?_

_Iron Man can do anything._

But, deep down, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Peter was right; he couldn’t guarantee the kid’s safety.

“Fine,” he said. “Then I promise that I’ll do my best to keep you safe. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure nothing bad happens. Okay?”

Peter was quiet for a moment, pondering the correction. Finally, he nodded, sniffling and wiping at his nose. He looked like a little kid, shoulders slouched and hands crossed over his stomach. After what felt like a long moment of silence, Tony spoke up.

“It is pretty late, Pete. You should go get some rest.” Peter nodded and stood, slipping his mask back over his head. Tony walked him to the balcony, shivering at the cold wind. He hugged himself to warm up and looked the kid over. “I know it’s hard to slow your mind down right now, but promise you’ll go home and at least _try_ to get some sleep before morning. Will you do that?”

“Will _you_?” Peter said. Tony wanted to be mad, but the kid had a good point.

“Please, Peter?” The kid stared at him from behind the mask for a long time, and he wished he could see his expression, to know what he was thinking. Finally, he nodded. Spider-Man dove off the balcony—Tony fought off a feeling of dread, the automatic response of seeing that—and swung off into the distance.

Tony should have known better.

He walked back inside, only briefly considering going back to bed before heading to the lab. He closed all of Skip’s files after reading them over once more. He waited a few minutes, then pulled up Peter’s tracker. He watched a small red dot move along the map, waiting for it to reach the Parker household. But the dot was going in the opposite direction. It was headed south, towards Brooklyn.

He really should have known better.

* * *

 

                It was about ten minutes before Peter got a call from Tony. Stupid tracker.

                “Mr. Stark is trying to contact you,” Karen said cheerfully in his ears. She really wasn’t sensing the mood tonight.

                “Reject it,” he ordered, feeling slightly guilty at how mean he sounded. This wasn’t Karen’s fault. He’d apologize to her later.

                “Sorry, Peter, it’s been overridden,” she said. Instantly, his mentor’s voice appeared.

                “Peter! Whatever you’re trying to do, stop it,” Tony said, sounding panicked.

                Even if Tony insisted on putting the call through, that didn’t mean Peter had to participate in the conversation. He stayed quiet and focused his efforts on swinging from building to building. He didn’t know this part of New York as well, so he was mostly relying on Karen’s visual directions.

                “Kid? You there?” He stayed silent. Tony cursed under his breath. “I can hear you breathing, Pete, just answer me.” Nothing. “Fine. Then just listen, okay?”

                Peter had no intentions of listening, but he also didn’t really have much of a choice. Instead, he tried to occupy his mind. He could ignore Tony, think of something else. Unfortunately, the only other thing on his mind was Skip, and that was definitely no help at all.

                _Do you remember what he did to you? Do you remember all those times after school?_

                Of course he remembered. He didn’t need to ask himself that.

                “I don’t know what you’re planning on doing, but I swear to you it won’t make you feel better. I _know_ you, Pete. It’ll eat you alive if you do anything to him.” Tony didn’t know him. Tony had no idea what Peter was going to do. To be fair, though, neither did Peter.

                _You could make him pay for what he did to you. Break his hands and fingers, the same ones that would unbutton your pants, push your arms out of the way when you protested. Gouge out the eyes that stared at you like you were a piece of meat, looking you up and down in a way you were too young to recognize the meaning of. Punch him in the face, knock out a few teeth and split his lip, ruin the mouth that used to… to…_

“You might as well turn around and head back, kid. I’m already on my way,” Tony broke into his thoughts, thankfully. Peter didn’t like where his mind was going. He could hear the sound of repulsors on the other end of the call. He knew he couldn’t outrun Iron Man.

                Peter was crying now, tears slowly soaking into the fabric around his eyes. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down. His arms were heavy as they lethargically kept him going from building to building, the distance between each swing getting smaller. After a minute or two, when he was moving so slowly he had basically stopped, he heard repulsors behind him, not just over the call. He crawled onto the top of a building and waited, staring down at his feet and trying to keep his shoulder from shaking with his sobs.

                “Peter,” Tony said, sounding out of breath. The Iron Man suit touched down behind him and Peter heard the man step out of it. “Look at me, kid, please,” he begged.

                Peter reached up and pulled his mask off, mostly because the wet fabric was starting to irritate his skin. He could breathe easier without it, too, and he let the cold air cool his burning face. Suddenly, he wanted to be back at home. He didn’t want to be out here in the middle of the night, standing in the dark on top of some strange building and crying to himself like a baby.

                “You gotta say something, kiddo, I don’t know what to do right now. I don’t know how to make this better.” That was the problem. He _couldn’t_ make it better. Peter rubbed at his face, pressing his palms onto his eyes.

                “I don’t know what to do either,” he finally responded in a small whisper. He turned around to face Tony, but the second they made eye contact he crumpled to the ground and heaved out a guttural sob. Tony was down beside him in an instant, but kept his hands to himself.

                “We can work something out, it’ll be okay,” Tony said. “Just keep breathing, stay with me.”

                Peter squeezed his eyes shut tightly, gritting his teeth with the effort. Why did it have to be like this? Why did this have to be his life?

                “Breathe, buddy,” Tony said. “In and out, okay? In and—”

                “I don’t _want_ to!” Peter shouted, slamming his fist down. It went through the roof, the cement crumbling under his strength and sending thick cracks out around the fist-shaped hole. Tony jumped beside him, and Peter realized he had never used his full strength in front of him before. In front of _anyone_ before, actually. It made him feel like a monster. He could kill someone so easily, without even breaking a sweat.

                _You could kill Skip…_

                Peter sobbed again, spit running down his chin. He pulled his fist up from the hole and sat back. “I’m s-sorry,” he whimpered.

                “It’s okay,” Tony said quietly.

                “I’m so sor-ry,” he repeated, hiccupping through his tears.

                “It’s okay, Pete.” Peter shook his head, but Tony shook his right back. Tony placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder, but quickly pulled it back with a small apology. It was Peter’s turn to say it was okay, because he actually didn’t mind it right now. In fact, it was the first thing that actually started to make him feel a little better. Wordlessly, Peter scooted over and threw himself into his mentor’s arms, burying his face in his chest. He was a little embarrassed by how quickly he was soaking Tony’s shirt through with his tears, but the arms wrapped around his body felt too good to pull away.

                “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Tony soothed, brushing a hand through Peter’s hair. The touch was comforting, and Peter could feel his body slowly relaxing, the space between each gasping breath getting longer. He calmed down enough to stop sobbing, but tears still dripped down his face as his mentor rocked the two of them back and forth.

                “I want to go home,” he whispered.

                “Okay, kiddo,” Tony said in an equally quiet voice. His fingers carded through Peter’s hair again. “I’ve got a room all set up for you at the tower.”

                “No, I—” Peter sighed, pulling back a little so he could look up at Tony. “I want to go _home_. I need…” He trailed off, because he had no idea what he needed. He wanted May. He wanted to be in his own bed in his own room. He wanted to be somewhere familiar, not on this roof with a hole punched in it somewhere in Brooklyn that he had never been to before. Luckily, Tony seemed to understand.

                “Alright, I can do that. Are you good with me carrying you there? I can get a car here no problem, if you’re not.” In response, Peter stood and walked over to the empty Iron Man suit and nodded. He waited for Tony to get in, then crawled up on the front of the suit and wrapped himself around it like a hug. The metal was hard and cold, not like Tony’s warm, comforting arms. It would have to do, though.

                Tony flew him all the way home to his apartment in Queens and patiently walked up to the seventh floor of the building. They paused outside the front door to his place.

                “Please don’t leave,” Peter whispered, grabbing onto the sleeve of Tony’s shirt. He felt a little like a child in doing so, but he also really didn’t want his mentor to leave him.

                “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tony replied, pulling him closer by his side. Peter pressed his face onto his mentor’s shoulder and hesitantly knocked on the door. He didn’t bring his key with him when he went patrolling, and he hadn’t wanted to make Tony crawl in through his window.

                After a few tense moments, the door opened to reveal a sleepy looking Aunt May bundled tightly in a robe.

                “Wha—? Peter, it’s the middle of the night, what are you doing?” She sounded angry and looked like she was about to start taking it out on the older man, but she must have finally caught sight of Peter’s face because she immediately softened. “Oh, baby, what happened?” She held open her arms, and Peter felt his resolve break.

                He fell forward and let her wrap him in a hug. He still had Tony’s sleeve held tightly in one hand, so his one arm hung back awkwardly while his other embraced his aunt. “May,” he said wetly into her shoulder, closing his eyes, “it’s getting bad again.”

                “ _Oh_ ,” she said softly. May ushered them both in and moved into the living room. Peter sat down on the couch with both adults on either side of him. Tony’s arm was wrapped around his shoulder, and May had one arm cradling his head to her own as she pressed soft kisses into his hair. He held one of their hands in each of his own.

                “It’s okay, sweetie,” May said, her breath warm on the top of his head.  

                “We’ve got you, kid,” Tony squeezed his hand and rubbed circles onto his shoulder.

                Peter sniffled and sighed, relaxing into their grips and letting himself close his eyes. He breathed slowly, like Tony always told him to do. He got lost in the security of having two people love him. They surrounded him, kept him safe. Finally, he felt safe. As long as he had the two of them in his life to watch out for him, he knew he’d be alright.

                Peter felt a smile creep onto his lips as the moment warmed and comforted him.

                _It’s okay_ , he thought.

                And yeah, it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope this story and the ending is ok, I wasn't sure at some parts. I just think Peter needs some hugs and I had to give him some.


End file.
